Until They Didn't
by Sweet Little Bullet
Summary: It was never a love story for the ages. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Dramione.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any other recognizable work.**

 **A/N: I've kind of hit a wall with basically *all* of my stories. I just needed to stretch my writing muscles and this came about. It may or may not be expanded. Let me know what *you* think!**

 **HER**

It wasn't the love story she had always envisioned.

The time for the white dress and wedding bells had long since passed.

In truth she was only grateful that she was still free to see it and the fact that he had wanted her; had asked for her. It was enough she told herself as he slid the ring onto her finger asking for her forever.

But it wasn't.

It was easy to ignore at first, the way she held his hand tighter than he held on to her. As though she were afraid he would fly away. It was easy to disregard the hesitance of his lips on hers to attribute it to nerves or unfamiliarity.

Soon she began to notice though.

How his eyes always seemed to drift to one particular seat, whether it was empty or not mattered not. He was always watching, always waiting. For her.

She felt used but she couldn't give him up. Not when he kissed her or pushed her hair away from her face with gentle fingers, a far away look in his eyes, like he was seeing someone else. She told herself it didn't matter to her because she had the ring on her finger.

It didn't matter who he loved because Hermione Granger would never love Draco Malfoy.

And it didn't matter that watching Draco Malfoy watch Hermione Granger with such a longing in his eyes, like she was the only girl he had ever laid eyes on, was slowly killing her. Because Astoria knew he would never notice. He never did.

 **HIM**

It was never a love story for the ages.

It was stolen kisses hidden deep in the stacks and heated words in the hallway. It was lingering touches and whispered words in the dark of the night as they patrolled the halls.

Still, he had known her. _Known_ her.

It wasn't hard with her, he didn't have to pretend not to care or want for knowledge. She understood just as he had with her. They had debates on anything and everything and he relished the words that flew from her tongue like lashings as they talked properties of potions and spell usage. It wasn't until the fateful day as they stood in the library, each trying to prove each other wrong, that he had kissed her. Her lips were sweet and sour; like cherries in the summer from his favorite tree in the garden. He wanted more.

"They can never know," she whispered once he had pulled away, his forehead pressed against hers as he tried to keep himself upright.

He simply nodded.

And so it began.

They argued, about everything and nothing. They concealed themselves in the secret recesses of the castle, their noses pressed together as they lay on the cold stone floors, their breath mingling together as they talked of their hopes and dreams.

There were nights out too, laughing madly as they dashed through the secret passages towards the black lake and lay upon the shore, listening to the water lap at their feet.

It was here that their kisses turned heated, their hands more than exploring. They were a tangle of lips and limbs and lost clothing as they lost themselves in each other.

"This can't happen again," she said sternly as she straightened her sweater and he simply smirked, already planning the next time.

And it did happen, again and again; always in the cloak of darkness and always in whispered and urgent voices and hurried touches. It always left him strangely satisfied yet yearning for more.

She was beauty and brains and bloody infuriating.

She was perfect and for a time, she was his.

Until she wasn't.

The prophet arrived in the great hall just as it always did and Draco didn't stop crunching his toast as he unfurled the paper to see her picture staring back at him, the words mocking him as he thought back to their latest covert conversation. His hands were shaking as he looked toward her empty seat and his breakfast suddenly sat cold in the depths of his stomach as the engagement announcement continued to play on loop, insulting him.

" _I'm not ready to marry him."_ She had said as she lay with her head on his shoulder, her brown hair tickling his nose, " _There's so much I want to do still. So much I want to see."_

And he had believed her.

Until he didn't.

He didn't wait for her return or for the words he knew would come.

His dad was pleased, his mother questioning.

He didn't care.

The next day his own announcement was released to the paper.

He tried hard to ignore the weight of it as her hand sat on his arm and his eyes drifted away.

Always looking.

For her.


End file.
